


Snakes

by Leafy_leaf



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Death, Mild Blood, One Shot, Open to Interpretation, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Short, Short One Shot, Unsettling, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:53:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22699708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafy_leaf/pseuds/Leafy_leaf
Summary: A (very short) story from the section in my notebook titled "Snakes and Other Mildly Unsettling Stories"How he wished things wouldn't end this way, with the snakes twisting around their throats.





	Snakes

"This," he said, "is the beginning of the end." 

A certain sense of peace fell over the weary travellers. Soon, so soon, they'd find themselves back in the comforts of familiarity. Their hell was almost over. 

"Yet it's a short end." A breath. " _Painfully short."_

The small group eyed their friend as he paused once more. Silence: his key to building tension. Silence: each moment of it twisting around their throats like a snake, chocking its prey. 

"What are you talking about?" She was the first to speak, to make a noise of protest despite how the snakes were coiling inside her. She had always been his reason, logic, the one to keep him calm. The snakes slithered tighter. 

"How I wish it didn't have to end this way this way."

Another pause, another snake, another dose of venom.

"When I wake up- if I wake up- I'll regret today." 

Ugly creatures, slimy with blood. It tore into them, building up, up, up, waiting for a terrible release. 

"If I ever wake up- and my feelings for you all are real and live and painful- then I'll regret today until I fall asleep again." He shrugged, calm.

"If I ever wake up..." 

A broken record, repeating one thought over and over and over again. A scratch in the head from where the needle hit too many times. 

"I'll hate myself, but who knows if that will ever happen?"

His chuckle causes them, the snakes, to burst. Every last snake vomited up in a final display of forgiveness.

There was no contest to see who draw a weapon first. They all had their chance to save themselves. He didn't draw either, just his hands, pushing and pulling out hearts and lungs and snapping bones. They had the advantage, once, before their arms bent in ways they shouldn't. When their throats first started twisting with snakes, back when they could still breathe. Five throats pulsing and choking. Four-three-two- than one. One surviving heart, one surviving brain, two surviving lungs; one surviving throat. Millions of surviving snakes leaching out their venom. A chorus of twisted sickness offering out only mockery: oddly proud, yet hollow, oddly satisfied, yet it was still painful. Shivers as the monsters uncoiled themselves, slithering up to his heads then the pain as they sunk their fangs into his skull, making way for their children to seal the deal. Pinpricks as they bit deeper and deeper. The snakes' gift: an unsettling headache. Blooming. Pushing outwards. A single wail escaped him.

Vaguely, he knew he had woken up. 


End file.
